this case because I thought you didn't kill Duffy. That's the only reason I took it. Now you sit up here and tell me the truth about that knife. Every damned word of it." Trevelyan squinted up at the face of the man above him, as though he were squinting against too much light. Then he rolled over to his side and heaved himself up to lean against the stone wall behind the cot. "Now, tell me," Mr. Munn ordered. "Shore," Trevelyan said, "shore, I bought that-air knife. Lak he said. But that don't prove I killed Duffy, the bastud." "What became of it?" "I taken hit on home and put hit on the kitchen table." "Is it out to your place now?" " Naw, I can't say as hit is. Hit was stole." "Stolen?" "That's right," Trevelyan replied. "Hit was stole ofFn the kitchen table. That afternoon when I come home." "My God, man!"—and Mr. Munn stepped back from the cot—"you mean I've got to stand up there and tell that jury somebody stole that knife that very afternoon?" "Hit's the God's truth," Trevelyan asserted, and shrugged his shoulders. " I can't make hit no diff'rent." "All right," Mr. Munn said. "Go on." "I come home from town and I put that-air knife and a hunk of cheese I bought in town on the kitchen table. Lak I said. Then I seen my wife wasn't round the house and I knowed she was out to the field hilling up some hills fer some late squash. So I taken me my hoe and went out thar, too. When we come back to the house that cheese and that- air knife was gone." "Is that all?" Mr. Munn demanded. Squinting at him, cocking his head a little to one side, Trevelyan said: "Naw, hit ain't all. But hit's nigh all." He was studying Mr. Munn's face, squinting, "I recollect I seen one of them niggers up thar prowlen nigh the road. One of them niggers lives over on Mr. May's place, or round thar. I seen him round, but I don't rightly know his name.